


Time

by NoahTN98



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Denial of Feelings, Dorian Being Dorian, Haven, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), M/M, One Night Stands, Strangers to Lovers, The Blooming Rose, Young Dorian Pavus, mutual feelings, the boys just want to love each other, young Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13655871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoahTN98/pseuds/NoahTN98
Summary: Dorian and Cullen were never meant to cross paths. A mage and a Templar could never talk to each other, be friends, let alone each other's one night stand. But Dorian can't help himself, and Cullen has no room to fight his desire to be with the man. One night in Kirkwall, with promises of more, Dorian can't tell the man he's a mage. Give it an hour together, and six years apart, only time will tell.





	1. Chapter 1

_9:35 Dragon. Hightown. Kirkwall._

The Blooming Rose had been perhaps the only highlight of Dorian’s extended study visit to Kirkwall. A place for sexual encounters without the fear of judgement, or parental abduction, could almost be compared to the Golden City. A man he was of money, and so long as he continued to pay Madam Lusine, he would continue to receive the services the brothel was happy to provide. Often he would simply find himself in the place for the company, a book in hand, flirting back and forth with various prostitutes when he wasn’t engaging with them.

This evening, the Rose had been laden with Templars of different ages, the youngest of the group approaching Dorian to ask if he was available for sexual favours. It was clear he was new to this, and Dorian sympathised, as he knew what it was like to be in this man’s position. Dorian had, unfortunately, informed the young man that he was, in fact, not a prostitute. Merely a regular customer who did not wish the wrath of Madam Lusine for stealing her customers. He was loathe to admit that he was flattered the young man wished to experiment with him, though his attention was quickly diverted when a particularly angry, yet rather apprehensive, man walks through the door and starts barking orders at his fellow Templars. Seeing a moment of opportunity, Dorian stands and grabs the hand of the Templar that had approached him for sexual favours, whispering into his ear the place in which he was lodging and for him to meet him there if he wished still for a little bit of fun.

Dorian catches the glare of the other Templar in the corner of his eye, turning his head to smirk at the man and wink. The reaction he gets is not what he expected, releasing the hand of the young man when his current interest blushes, shifting his weight. Bashful. Not a trait that Dorian deliberately went for on regular occasion. Dorian watches as the young Templar leaves, holding the gaze of the other Templar for as long as he can, an odd feeling of lust sinking in when the man leaves. He sits back down in the chair, picking the book back up, wondering if perhaps he will see the other man again.

The next day, Dorian is walking through Kirkwall’s Gallows when he spots the man again. Knowing better than to carry around a staff, given the approach of the Templars towards mages anywhere that isn’t Tevinter, he had simply come to buy some supplies from the Tranquil. An odd group of people are surrounding the handsome Templar from the previous day - two mages, an elf, and a dwarf - appearing to be in a heated conversation about something or another that was happening within the city. Curious, Dorian approaches, pretending to simply browse the weapons and armour stalls next to them.

“Just because you are the Champion, Hawke, does not mean you can get away with taking the law into your own hand!” The Templar was clearly angry, though not angry enough to arrest this ‘Hawke’.

“Your Templars failed to stop a blood mage who killed my mother, decapitated her, and reanimated a corpse made up of other women!” Hawke snaps back. “If anyone has the right to take the law into his own hand, it’s certainly me.”

Dorian raises his eyebrow at the comments exchanged between the two men, picking up a ring from the stall, observing it. He had heard rumors of a serial killer in Kirkwall, but never the exact details, beginning to wonder just whether or not the city guard were actually doing their job. Dorian places the ring down, and turns as Hawke and his companions walk away, leaving the very frustrated Templar alone. Dorian makes sure to pass through the Templar’s periphery, smirking at him as he does, continuing to the Tranquil stalls for the supplies he had originally came here for. As he returns, he takes a moment longer to admire the mysterious Templar, realising that he is no older than himself, a hope in the back of his mind that he might appear again at The Blooming Rose some time soon.

***

A week passes before Dorian sees his mysterious Templar again. He had been conversing with Adriano when it happened, the tell-tale slam of the door, and a very angry man shooting daggers around the room. There were fewer Templars here today, his young friend from the previous week hadn’t come to The Blooming Rose since the day Dorian had propositioned him, but all of the Templars present had froze when this incredibly handsome, angry Templar had appeared. Dorian took this as his chance, and rose from his seat, walking slowly behind the Templars as they left to stand face to face with the man he had been longing to see.

“You look like you could do with some relaxation.” Dorian says, his voice dripping with suggestive intent. “How about I help you out?”

“I don’t sleep with prostitutes.” The Templar says bluntly, trying to angle his way out the trap he had gotten himself into, and escape the brothel.

Dorian laughs, shaking his head. “I am no prostitute, simply a visitor to Kirkwall. My extended study time has… Allowed me to stay here for some time, but I will be leaving soon.” Dorian flicks his gaze to the brothel, and then back at the Templar. “Why don’t I show you where I’m staying while I’m here, and I can show you my collection of books. You look like a man who enjoys reading.”

“Ser, I really mustn’t, I have to-”

“Or we can simply get a room out back, and see what happens?” Dorian suggests, tilting his head. He watches as the Templar’s cheeks flush deeply, shifting awkwardly on the spot, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I can’t stay long if I do, Ser.”

“I wouldn’t make you stay any longer than you were allowed.” Dorian purrs, his hand reaching forward to take the Templar’s, leading him into the Brothel. He speaks briefly with Madam Lusine, getting the keys to a spare room at the back, leading his Templar through to it. “You Templars take vows, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ser. We do.”

“Have you taken a vow never to ravish a man or woman, in the middle of the night, in a strange spare brothel room?” Dorian asks, closing and locking the door behind them, sitting on the bed.

“If you’re asking whether I have taken a vow of celibacy, then the answer is no, I haven’t.” The Templar hovers by the door for a moment more, then joins Dorian on the bed, clearly uncomfortable to an extent.

“I must say, I never caught your name.”

“I’m Knight-Captain Cullen.” The man says, shifting.

“Cullen. That’s a nice name. You can call me Dorian.” Dorian bites his lip, looking Cullen over. “I wonder what you look like underneath all of that armour.”

Cullen frowns, confused. “I… Don’t look like anything special.”

“When I saw you first last week, I had hoped I would see you again. I spotted you in the Gallows, but you had been thoroughly annoyed, and I didn’t want to risk my head.” Dorian inches closer, surprised when Cullen doesn’t move back. “Tell me, Cullen. Have you thought about me like I’ve thought about you?”

“I’ll… Admit that I did wonder about you… When you winked at me. Then again when I saw you in the Gallows the next day.” Cullen’s breathing was slower now, his lips parted, hesitant to close the gap between them.

“I leave Kirkwall soon. Shall we make sure I have something worth coming back to?” Dorian smirks slightly, and closes the gap between them, pressing his lips to Cullen’s. Cullen was overthinking, and Dorian could tell, but he kept kissing him in hopes he would relax into it. When Cullen finally relaxed, he allowed Dorian entry to his mouth. Dorian noticed the taste of lyrium as he explored Cullen’s mouth, and chased the taste, pushing Cullen down onto the bed, hovering over him. “If you want me to stop, tell me, and I will.”

“What do you intend to do with me?” Cullen asks, his cheeks flushed.

“Whatever you want me to.” Dorian purrs, looking down, trying to figure out how he would get this man out of all of his armour.

Cullen swallows, eyes scanning over Dorian, his hands taking on a life of their own and working his armour off. He’d had trysts before, not many, but enough to know what to expect. Most had been with women, however, only once had he taken an interest in sharing a bed with a man. Cullen waits until Dorian moves off him, standing, pushing his armour to the floor. In only his breeches and tunic, Cullen moves back onto the bed, his hands grasping Dorian’s hips when the man starts to kiss him again, his arousal pressing against the other man’s thigh.

Dorian presses kisses across Cullen’s jaw, his fingers lacing through the curls on the top of his head. The response he gains, the groan from Cullen’s throat, sends a shiver down his spine. He traces his tongue along the shell of his ear, nipping the lobe. “I’ve never had a soldier before…” He purrs, rolling his hips down against Cullen’s, pulling another groan from the man. “How many times will I get to have you?”

“I’ve only- ah, Maker- I’ve only done this once before with a man…” Cullen admits, head lolling to the side as Dorian makes to kiss down his throat. “That’s not an issue, is it?”

“Oh, no, it’s not an issue.” Dorian nips at him, pushing the collar of his tunic to expose the crook between his shoulder and his neck, sucking and nipping the skin to leave a mark. “So long as you know how to please a man, we should be okay.”

Cullen tightens his grip on Dorian’s hips, shifting his legs, switching their positions. Leaning over him, Cullen places his hands either side of Dorian’s head, pressing his arousal against the other man’s and rutting. “I assure you, I know what I’m doing.” He comments almost flatly, a blush rising and tinting his face again, shifting back onto his knees to open Dorian’s breeches. His fingers feel clumsy, fumbling with the laces, eventually pushing them open and pulling them down. He stares, faced with silk smallclothes, his hardened length pressing against the fabric. “Maker’s breath…”

Dorian bites his lip, taking the reaction from Cullen as a compliment, watching as Cullen’s hand reaches out and runs over his length. He groans softly, pushing his hips up to gain more friction. “I’m not going to break.” He tries to reassure the man currently fondling him through his smalls. “I’m not porcelain.”

Cullen glances up for a moment, then hooks his fingers around Dorian’s smalls, pulling them down and off, his cheeks heating up. He knew he was blushing, he could tell by the way Dorian’s aroused smirk had gone and he was trying not to laugh. “It has… Been a while since I’ve had a man’s cock in my mouth…” Cullen licks his lips, and repositions himself, taking Dorian into his hand and stroking him. “Let’s see if I remember what to do.”

Dorian couldn’t tell if Cullen’s comment was serious or not, but he had little time to think about it as the wet heat of Cullen’s tongue ran over the tip of his cock. His head fogged, and he could think of nothing beyond the attentions Cullen’s tongue was paying him, his hand hesitantly hovering over the man’s curls. Many of the men he had been with hadn’t enjoyed having their hair pulled, and while he was eager to ask, he simply placed his hand down on Cullen’s head and waited for a response. What he received surprised him. Cullen’s head tilted up slightly, his gaze meeting Dorian’s as he traced his tongue up the underside of his cock, waiting. Dorian laced his fingers into his hair, and tugged. Cullen groaned, and nothing in Thedas could ever have turned Dorian on more than that noise. He tugged again, but it was his turn to groan when Cullen’s lips wrapped around him.

Cullen’s hands held Dorian’s hips, preventing the man from pushing too far up into his mouth for now. Dorian was eager, to say the least, but it’s not like Cullen could deny being eager himself. He had forgotten how he enjoyed the feeling of his mouth being filled, determined to make Dorian feel good, even if he would never see this man again. His head moved slowly, Dorian’s length moving in and out of his mouth, closing his eyes. One of Cullen’s hands moves away from Dorian’s hips, and slides up his torso, pushing the other man’s tunic up with it. His skin felt smooth, yet hot, and he could feel his breathing becoming ragged.

Dorian tugged at Cullen’s hair to get his attention, eyes lidded, a groan passing his lips when Cullen’s gaze meets his own. The sight of his cock disappearing into this handsome man’s mouth was almost enough to make him cum, but he forced himself to to hold back, not wanting to ruin what little time he was guaranteed. Cullen’s mouth was unlike those of the brothel’s employees - while they had the years of experience, Cullen was much more attentive, and made up for his lack of experience with enthusiasm. Dorian was torn away from his daydreaming by a light bite to his shaft, clearly an accident on Cullen’s part, tightening his grip on Cullen’s hair. His hips buck up, his free hand squeezing the hand keeping his tunic up.

“Maker… Knight-Captain…” He purrs, pushing his hips up again with the pull of rank, lifting his head. The hand in his hair tugs, pulling Cullen’s head away from him. “Allow me to undress before we go any further.” Dorian sits up as Cullen sits back, pulling his tunic off, tossing it to the floor. He watches, eyes curious as Cullen removes his tunic, standing. Dorian shifts up to the head of the bed when Cullen makes to climb over him, resting his arms either side of his head, his erection thick in his breeches. He moves his hand down, into Cullen’s breeches and past the waistband of his smalls, running his hand over the other man’s length. “Do you want me, Cullen?”

Cullen nods, his head dropping down to rest on Dorian’s shoulder when he begins to lazily stroke him. He lets out a heavy breath, rocking his hips into the other man’s hand, content to stay like this and forget about everything else. _I want you to fuck me, Cullen_ he hears whispered into his ear, his arms trembling. He tilts his head, kissing along Dorian’s throat and shoulders, listening to the tell-tale opening of a drawer and fumbling as Dorian grabs some lubricant. He gasps against Dorian’s shoulder as the man tightens his grip, wiping his thumb over the tip of his cock, pushing his hips harder into his hand. The jar of lubricant is placed on the bedside table, and Dorian’s hand comes to hold the back of Cullen’s head, removing his other hand from his breeches. Cullen lifts his head in protest, his pupils blown with lust, moving quickly to pull his breeches down and off. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks, panting lightly, reaching for the jar.

“If you don’t get on with it, I may just have to pin you down and have my way with you.” Dorian comments, shifting onto his elbows, licking his lips as he catches sight of the thick length hanging heavy between Cullen’s legs. “Are all Templars well-endowed, or are you particularly special?” Dorian teases, grunting softly when Cullen pushes him back down, slicking up his fingers.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t make a habit of looking at the other Templars naked.” Cullen places the jar back down, scooping Dorian’s hands up in a hand, holding them above the other man’s head. His slicked fingers run gently over Dorian’s entrance, and slowly breaches the tight muscle, listening as the man hisses at the intrusion. Cullen waits, almost immune to the nails digging into his hand, and begins to move his finger once the man is relaxed. After a short time, he adds another finger, resuming his attentions to Dorian’s throat, kissing and biting, drowning in the scent of the man’s skin, his arousal. “Tell me when you’re ready…”

Dorian looks up at the man above him, his legs moving further apart, groans resonating in his throat. He gasps as Cullen’s fingers hit that spot inside him, writhing, begging for him to do it again. Sparks fly up Dorian’s spine as Cullen hits the spot again, repeatedly, panting and trying his best not to be too loud. “Oh-” He bites down hard on his own lip, his back arching. “Now! Fuck me, now!”

Cullen moves obediently, removing his fingers from Dorian, grabbing the jar and slicking up his cock. He positions himself between Dorian’s legs, planting a hand beside Dorian’s head, taking himself in hand. “Relax.” He says softly, lining himself up, pushing slowly into the man.

Dorian’s hands come up and grip Cullen’s shoulders, taking shaky breaths as he tries to relax despite the intrusion, his eyes closing and his head tilting back. He notices Cullen pause, and squeezes the man’s shoulders to reassure him that he was okay, the air knocked from his lungs when the soldier pulls back and thrusts harshly into him. “Again…” He pants, lazily opening his eyes. “Do that again.” He begs, and pulls Cullen down to him, gripping the man tightly as he moves his hips harshly. Despite this, Cullen still moved slowly, something Dorian was grateful for as he brought his legs up and wrapped them loosely around Cullen’s waist. The hands on Cullen’s shoulders pull him down, one of them sliding into his hair, tilting his head to allow Cullen to press his lips softly to his throat.

Dorian made it a personal rule not to indulge too much in the people he slept with. But Cullen’s moans with each movement of his hips, the way his fingers traced the outline of Dorian’s body, and the way his lips felt against his skin seemed to be pulling Dorian into a downward spiral. He tilts his head to the side, inhaling deeply and letting out a loud groan. Cullen smelled like oakmoss and elderflower. Sword polish and arousal. Dorian couldn’t get enough.

Cullen lifts his head, holding Dorian’s gaze for several long moments, and he knew he was in trouble. The man underneath him was leaving soon, and he had no idea why that bothered him. Maker, he couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s perfect skin. Cullen paused briefly, pulling Dorian’s legs up, letting his ankles rest on his shoulders. His hips move faster, his hands holding Dorian’s sides, groaning as the man scratches down his arms. “If you keep scratching like that,” He pants, grunting softly. “You’re going to leave marks all down my arms.”

Dorian makes a weak attempt to laugh despite the pleasure coursing through his body, scratching the man again. “Challenge accepted.”

“That wasn’t a challenge- fuck- Dorian.” Cullen drops his head forward, sweat-soaked curls sticking to his forehead, his eyes closed. His skin feels as though it’s burning with each scratch, tightening his grip on the other man, the rhythm of his hips staggering for a moment. “Is this alright…?” Cullen asks, his hips snapping, his eyes opening slightly to see the man underneath him. Dishevelled, an arm dropped above his head and gripping the pillow, his hair a perfect mess.

“Yes… Cullen, more…” Dorian almost begs, bending his legs to force Cullen down closer to him and stop his legs aching so much, panting out moans with each thrust of Cullen’s hips. His legs are moved again, dropped down from Cullen’s shoulders, and wrapped around his waist. Closer, Dorian can smell him again, Cullen’s forehead coming down to rest on his. The hand not gripping the pillow comes up to run through Cullen’s hair, pulling his head close, lips ghosting over each other. Dorian kisses Cullen, breaking his own rule, allowing himself to indulge in the man above him.

Cullen groans with each kiss, tongue swiping over Dorian’s bottom lip, exchanging panted breaths. His rhythm falters again, his hips losing their pace as he draws near to his climax. He knew Dorian had noticed, he could feel the smile as he kissed the man, reaching down between them to grasp the other man’s cock. Gentle strokes matched the rhythm he was trying to hold with his hips, thumb swiping over the tip with each upstroke, biting at Dorian’s lips. “Close, Dorian… Fuck…”

“All that talk about a warrior’s stamina…” Dorian teases, his back arching, pushing his hips back. His grip on Cullen’s hair tightens as he twitches in his hand, precum spilling over Cullen’s fingers. He gasps as Cullen changes the angle of his hips slightly, and moves his hips harder, pushing Dorian over the edge. He groans loudly, Cullen’s name and a string of barely formed syllables passing his lips, spilling over the other man’s hand.

Cullen keeps his hips moving, clenching his eyes shut as Dorian’s climax drags him towards his own, holding back for several long moments to ride out Dorian’s with him. A tug on his hair, a bite to his lips, and Dorian’s legs tightening to keep him close. It doesn’t take long before Cullen is spilling into Dorian, dropping his head down to his shoulder, panting heavily. His hips rolls slowly, lazily, and eventually come to a halt as they both come down from their orgasms.

They lay there for a moment, legs entwined, bodies slumped against each other, panting and breathing in the scent of each other’s skin. Cullen is the first to move, lifting his head, eyes focused on Dorian’s as he pulls out of the man. Dorian moves next, reaching into the same drawer in which he pulled the jar, getting a cloth and giving it to Cullen. Cullen cleans Dorian up, paying more attention than necessary, pressing a gentle kiss to Dorian’s cheek and tossing the cloth into the small basket by the side of the bed. He then lifts his hand to his mouth, cleaning it, smirking as Dorian’s pupils blow wide at the sight.

Cullen sits back on his knees, drowning in the sight of the man he barely knew, a knot drawing up tight in his stomach. He was never going to see this man again, yet the lust he had felt before they fucked had transformed into something more by the time they were done. He hesitates for a moment, but shifts off the bed, grabbing his tunic. “I have to leave. My Knight-Commander will be wondering where I’ve got to, and Maker knows she’ll send out a search party.” He laughs lightly, pulling his clothes on, grabbing the bits of his armour and putting them back on. “Perhaps I’ll see you again soon, Dorian?”

“Perhaps you will, Cullen.” Dorian half smirks, fingers running through his hair as he tries to fix it, an emptiness forming in the pit of his stomach. Kaffas, he couldn’t seriously have feelings for this man, could he? He pushes himself up, and grabs his own clothes, pulling them on. He picks up the key when they’re both fully dressed, taken aback when Cullen kisses him again, unlocking the door. “Go, Cullen. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble on my behalf. I’ll see you again soon, I promise.”

Cullen leaves, glancing briefly back at Dorian as he does, disappearing through the main door and onto the streets of Hightown. Dorian hands the key back to Madam Lusine, collects his book from the table at which he left it, and sits somewhere quiet. He thought it impossible to develop feelings for a man he knew for barely an hour, but he had, and he was in trouble.

 

Dorian left Kirkwall in the few days after his encounter with Cullen.

He never did go back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Cullen's path cross again six years later. So much has changed for both of them. Neither know whether they'll be able to have what they had again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a lot of in-game dialogue.

_9:41 Dragon. Haven. Fereldan_

“While they’re focused on Lavellan, we break the magister’s defences. It could work, but it’s a huge risk.” Cullen declares to the table, lifting his eyes to the door as it’s pushed open, a familiar figure walking through the door, and Jim following not so far behind.

“Fortunately, you’ll have help.”

That voice. Cullen remembered that voice, only the last time he heard it, it was dripping with arousal, testing him, pushing him down a rabbit hole of desire he would never escape.

“This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander.” Jim says, hovering in the doorway.

Cullen glances at the man as his gaze is met, and he swallows, shifting his weight. The moment is short, but it feels like an eternity, like 6 years of waiting had been lifted from his shoulders and his prayers to the Maker had been answered. But he didn’t deserve this. Not now. Not after what had happened in their years apart.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’ magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.” Dorian smirks slightly, watching Cullen, taking note of just how much the man had changed. It was to be expected, of course, but he would definitely need to speak to him about his hair. When he found the time.

“The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this.” Cullen addresses Lavellan, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. “We can still go after the Templars, if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

Dorian finds himself staring at the man with that comment, something clicking into place. Cullen had left the Templars. When? Why? He wondered if this was why Cullen had changed his hair, why he suddenly had no trouble talking to the people in front of him without the faintest hint of a stammer. His gaze is met, a stare somewhat icy coming from the man across the table, and he can’t help but wonder if Cullen had forgotten him. It wouldn’t matter much if he had, it was a one-off, no strings attached. At least, that’s what he would tell himself.

Then he realises that the elf next to him must have said something, because everyone else is looking at him. He clears his throat, and simply begins to tell the others of Alexius’ magic, the defences he had set up, and ways to get past them. If Lavellan and two others went in as a distraction, he and the spies would be able to get a small group of soldiers through and into the castle. It was fool proof. “What could go wrong?” He smirked confidently. The answer, of course, was everything. This could go horribly wrong, and then the entire world would be in danger, but he wouldn’t mention that.

Within a few hours, their plan is set in stone, and they were due to leave tomorrow. Granted, they had only just returned from Redcliffe, and were hardly in any fit state to return right now, but Lavellan was right when he had said they needed to play to Alexius’ bidding and visit him as soon as they could. Dorian admired the elf, not in any romantic way, but he had the courage to put his life on the line, if only to protect these people he had known for such a short time.

Dorian was shown to his sleeping quarters, a small hut with two cot-like beds, raising his eyebrow. Who was he sharing with? Given the location of the hut, he only assumed that he was sharing with Solas, the odd mage he had encountered when trying to get into Haven. Perhaps he and Solas could discuss techniques, share interests, trade fade dreams. He snorted to himself, and sat on the cot. “Oh, Pavus. What have you got yourself into?”

His head lifts as the door opens, slowly, a head poking round it. Cullen. The man lets himself in, closing the door behind him, but keeps his distance. Polite. Dorian observed the man, watching as he shrinks into the same man he had met six years prior, blushing, shifting his weight and rubbing the back of his neck. “What do I call you now?” Dorian asks, standing, asserting his dominance. Or, what little dominance he had, anyway.

“Cullen. I’m still Cullen.”

“No longer Knight-Captain though, I see.” Dorian crosses his arms over his chest, the man visibly wincing at that title.

“No. Commander Cullen, or just… Cullen.” He waits patiently to be allowed further into the room, Dorian’s eyes boring into him. “You promised you would come back.”

“It seems as though there would have been little point in me returning, especially as you’re here, and not in Kirkwall.”

“I… Yes, that is true-“

“And plans change, Cullen. I couldn’t return, but I also couldn’t stay home. So I’m here. Like you. Except… I don’t have any particular desire to stay.”

“Don’t leave again, Dorian.”

Dorian glares at the man, and catches his eyes with his own. Those beautiful honey eyes. “This clearly matters to you. Whether or not I stay. But it shouldn’t.” Dorian picks up his knapsack, and places it on the cot, gesturing for the man to come further into the small hut if he wished. “All those years ago, I kept from you that I’m a mage.”

Cullen swallows, and sighs softly, going to speak but not getting the chance.

“That I’m a mage, and I’m from Tevinter.” Dorian turns, a book in his hand, the same book he had been reading the night they met. “I didn’t deserve what you gave me that night. I used you, promised you more, but never came back. Now we’re here, and I wished you had forgotten my face, instead of knowing who I was the moment I walked through those doors.”

“I don’t feel used.” Cullen says bluntly, closing some of the gap between he and Dorian. “Whatever happened six years ago… Dorian, that night…” He struggles to get his words out, resorting to odd hand gestures.

“What? What about that night?”

“I want to say that it wouldn’t have mattered to me whether or not you’re a mage, but that would be a lie. Whatever that night was supposed to be, a one off, a fling, I’ve thought about it for six years.” He shifts his weight again, taking a cautious step closer to Dorian, closing the gap further.

Dorian visibly swallows as Cullen steps closer, shifting the book in his hands. “Cullen, we can’t do this. We can’t have whatever _this_ is. I’m leaving tomorrow for Redcliffe. I don’t even know if I’m going to come back alive, and to start something now, despite that fact, would be extremely unfair to you.” He backs himself against a wall, Cullen following, the gap between them closing up.

“You will come back, Dorian. No matter what happens, you will come back. Even if I have to go in there and get you myself.” Cullen braces a hand on the wall, the other coming to rest on Dorian’s cheek, brushing his thumb gently over it.

Dorian can see that Cullen is waiting for him to be the one that moves, possibly so as to not impose on him something he doesn’t want. Cullen’s hand is soft on his cheek, the gentle movements of his thumb almost enough to break his stance on not pursuing anything with Cullen tonight. He stays still for a long moment, and reaches up to pull Cullen’s head down, pressing his lips against the other man’s. Their kisses are slow, both men dropping their guard. A flick of his tongue over Cullen’s lips, and Dorian is exploring the other man’s mouth, searching, not even the faintest taste of lyrium on his tongue.

Cullen pulls back first, resting his forehead against Dorian’s, dropping his hand down to rest on Dorian’s side. “Come back alive, Dorian.”

“I’ll try my best.”

***

Two weeks later, Dorian is returning from Redcliffe with Lavellan, Cassandra, and Solas. They had won the favour of the rebel mages, who would be making their way to Haven, and now had assistance when it came to closing the Breach. At least, that’s what Dorian understood of the situation. Alexius had been arrested, not a sight Dorian thought he would ever see, nor a sight he wanted to see. The Inquisition would be lenient on him, he hoped. The events at Redcliffe had changed his mind, he wanted to stay with the Inquisition, he wanted to help them in whatever way possible.

He wanted to see Cullen.

Dorian didn’t know what it was that made him so keen to see the man, but felt he was right when he mentioned that whatever happened six years ago was more than just a one-off. Dorian had felt it that night, too. He had come back alive, too, so perhaps now would be a good time to explore what it is that they have.

“We must meet with Commander Cullen.” Cassandra says to Lavellan as they walk through the doors to Haven. “You, Tevinter, come as well. You helped us defeat this Magister, it is only right that you are in on the talks, too.”

Dorian cocks an eyebrow at Cassandra, but follows her and the elf to the Chantry, leaning against a beam and watching as the ‘talks’ quickly erode into whether or not gathering the mages for the Breach was a good idea.

“It’s not a matter for debate. There will be abominations among the mages and we must be prepared.” Cullen says, looking at the women in front of him, his gaze momentarily turning to Lavellan, then back to Josephine.

“If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst.”

Cullen turns his glare to Lavellan. “What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight? The veil is torn open!”

“Give them their freedom for now. If they prove later they can’t handle it, impose restrictions.” The elf says, crossing his arms, returning Cullen’s glare.

“And how many lives will be lost if they fail? With the veil broken, the threat of possession...” He breaks off and turns to Cassandra. “You were there Seeker, why didn’t you intervene?”

“While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it. The sole point of the Herald’s mission was to gain the mages’ aid, and that was accomplished.”

Dorian chuckles to himself, moving closer to the group. “The voice of pragmatism speaks. And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments.” He smirks, leaning against the closer pole, glancing at everyone.

“Closing the Breach is all that matters.” Cassandra briefly turns to speak to him, then turns back.

Dorian’s gaze goes to Cullen. He could understand why he would be worried about the threat of possession among the mages with the veil being the way it was, it would be foolish not to be worried. Any mage with common sense knew that they had to keep themselves safe, for the safety of others, in times like this.

“Closing the Breach will require a lot of magic, and that means lyrium. I have contacts who can help.” Lavellan’s eyes glance briefly at the people around him, focusing on Leliana when she begins to speak.

“Contacts meaning smugglers? Send them word, we need every advantage.”

“We have legitimate lyrium supply lines already.” Cullen protests.

“And they don’t need to hear of this.”

“Keep it under the table, and I’ll do what I can to quiet rumors.” Josephine says firmly.

Leliana nods. “We should look into the things you saw in this dark future.” She glances at Lavellan, and then over at Dorian. “The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?”

“Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone.”

“One battle at a time!” Cullen cuts in, clearly annoyed. “It’s going to take time to organise our troops and the mage recruits. Let’s take this to the war room.” Cullen focuses on Lavellan. “Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all.”

“And I’d hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach. Take a nap. Maybe go for a walk.”

“What is it they say? No rest for the wicked.” Cullen smirks.

“Meet us there when you’re ready.”

“I’ll skip the war council.” Dorian speaks up. “But I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don’t mind.”

“Then you’re… Staying?” Lavellan asks, a smile spreading slowly across his face.

Dorian glances at Cullen for a brief moment, whose expression was softer with the revelation that Dorian had decided to stick around. “Oh. Didn’t I mention? The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces.”

“I must admit, I’m surprised.”

“We both saw what could happen. What this… Elder One and his cult are trying to do. Not everything from Tevinter is terrible. Some of us have fought for eons against this sort of madness. It’s my duty to stand with you. That future will not come to pass.”

“There’s no one I’d rather be stranded in time with, future or present.”

“Excellent choice. But let’s not get stranded again any time soon, yes?”

Cullen turns to address Lavellan. “I’ll begin preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.”

***

The mages had been with the Inquisition for a week now, and Dorian, along with Solas, had been spending a lot of time training and studying with them. His training had kept him away from Cullen, and what little time they had together, had been spent talking lightly over ale in the tavern, with promise of a longer conversation when they both had the time. Groups of mages that specialised in pyromancy, or necromancy, had been relying closely on Dorian to keep them in check with their training, the youngest of his ‘students’ only sixteen years old.

That student in particular had been sitting with Dorian in one of the few quiet corners of Haven, reading a book from Dorian’s personal library, when he recognised the heavy footsteps of a certain Commander Cullen. He quickly dismissed himself, smiling when he was allowed to take the book with him, running off elsewhere to continue reading. Dorian’s gaze stays down, boots coming into his line of sight, eyes slowly moving up and meeting Cullen’s gaze.

“Lord Pavus. We need to talk.” Cullen says, keeping the formality for the surrounding people, not giving Dorian a chance to protest as he walks off towards the war room, diverting into a room on the right.

Dorian stands and follows, his pace leisurely compared the timing of Cullen’s footsteps. Once in the room, Dorian closes the door behind himself, watching Cullen think, as though he could see the cogs turning in his brain.

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?” Dorian raises his eyebrow, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Dorian, we need to talk about what happened.” Cullen sits on one of the beds, patting the space next to him, inviting Dorian to sit with him. He watches as the man joins him, resting his hands in his lap. “And we need to talk about… whether it’s going to mean anything for us.”

Dorian observes the man closely, resting a hand on the other man’s leg. “Do you want it to?”

“What?”

“Do you want what happened six years ago to mean anything? Do you want anything from it?” Dorian asks.

Cullen swallows, glancing up at the man, meeting his gaze. “Yes.” He shifts, turning to face Dorian. “You came back alive, Dorian. You’re staying. I want this opportunity. I want to… I want…” He struggles with his words again, his hand coming to rest on Dorian’s, keeping his gaze fixed with the other man’s as though he held the answers. He begins to worry his hesitance will cause him to lose Dorian, squeezing the man’s hand. “I want whatever _this_ is.” He whispers, leaning in, closing the gap as he kisses Dorian.

A shiver runs down Dorian’s spine as Cullen kisses him. Three weeks had passed since their first kiss in six years, and Cullen was more than making up for it. It was slow, and each kiss drew Dorian closer to Cullen, almost close enough to sit in Cullen’s lap. Dorian slides a hand into Cullen’s hair, but instead of slipping into the man’s lap, he lays back as Cullen shifts over him. The kiss breaks, and Dorian takes a moment to look at their positions. Legs tangled, hips pressed together, breathless from the kiss. He licks his lips, pausing for a moment before he speaks. “I want _this_ , too. But not in here.”

“Why not in here? This is my bed.” Cullen says softly, a light laugh passing his lips at Dorian’s confusion. “I share the room, but this is definitely my bed. Let me lock the door.” Cullen untangles himself, and gets up, locking the door. “Everybody will be eating, now. At least, most people will. We have enough time for however you want this to go.”

“There’s hardly any point in pretending we can completely slow it down now, is there? We’ve already had sex.” Dorian teases, hands exploring Cullen’s arms and shoulders as the man leans over him again. His hands come to rest on his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the stubble. “Before we go any further…”

Cullen tilts his head, studying the man for a long moment.

“Don’t say anything if you don’t mean it.”

Cullen nods, and leans down to resume their kiss, pressing his hips down against Dorian’s. He comes to rest on his elbows, his kisses trailing down his jaw and throat, drinking in the scent of the man. He smelled almost the same. The mysterious spices, lavish soaps, and growing scent of arousal he relished in. The bed they shared this time was smaller than the first, but it allowed them to be closer. “My armour is a lot easier to get off this time. Breeches included.” He comments against Dorian’s skin, fingers already trying to work at the numerous buckles covering Dorian.

“Hinting, are we?” Dorian smirks, watching the buckles of his clothing fall undone, allowing them to drop onto the floor.

“It seems the difficulty of clothing has been exchanged.” Cullen bites his lip. “I don’t remember there being so many buckles last time.”

“I don’t remember you talking so much last time.” Dorian quips playfully, pushing his hips up to remind Cullen of why they were in this position, drawing a groan from the man. His hand comes up to cover Cullen’s mouth, quieting him. “Not too much noise.”

Cullen nods, and continues to undress Dorian, the man soon laying before him in just his breeches. Cullen sits back, eyes tracing over Dorian’s skin. The years had been kind to him. Kinder than they had been to himself. “Dorian…”

“Don’t, Cullen. Not if you don’t mean it.” Dorian says firmly.

“I have never been more sure of anything than I am of my desire for you.”

Dorian sits up, saying nothing, his hands working on Cullen’s armour to dress the man down to his underclothes. “Show me.” He says softly, his fingers running under Cullen’s jaw, down this throat, lightly gripping his tunic. He pulls, laying back, guiding Cullen back over him. “Show me how much you want me, Cullen.”

Cullen’s hands slide up and down Dorian’s hips, one holding under Dorian’s thigh and moving it so he can slip between his legs, the other taking hold of Dorian’s wrist and planting it above his head. He leans in close, kissing along the other man’s jaw, a languid roll of his hips against Dorian’s affirming his own arousal. His kisses trail down, taking his time to taste every inch of Dorian’s exposed torso. He felt Dorian’s breathing slow, heat radiating from the man, gasping when Cullen’s tongue traces his Adonis belt, and up his snail trail. Cullen pauses, his gaze flicking up, trying to find any sign of discomfort in Dorian’s face, more than relieved when he doesn’t find any. He takes another moment to admire the man, and quietly thank the Maker that Dorian came back safe, and decided to stay.

“Cullen…” Dorian brings his hand to Cullen’s cheek, fingers under his jaw, lifting his head. “Come here.”

Cullen does as asked, moving up to level with Dorian, faces barely inches apart. They stay that way, not moving, bodies tangled together. Dorian moves first, hands coming up to Cullen’s hair and face, kissing the man. This time, there is no hesitation is the way their lips move together, their bodies pressing together, chasing each other’s desire. Cullen’s tunic is pulled off and dropped onto the floor, Dorian’s nails scratching lightly down his back. Cullen’s back arches, shivers shooting down his spine, a hand moving down to unlace his breeches. Dorian has the same idea, his hands also unlacing his own breeches, their kisses barely breaking as they push the fabric away from them.

Dorian’s hand runs down Cullen’s abdomen, pausing when he doesn’t feel the waistband of a pair of smalls. He pulls back from the kiss, raising his eyebrow at Cullen. “Any reason you’ve abandoned your smalls?”

“They can get uncomfortable.”

“That’s fair.” Dorian bites his lip, his hand continuing to move down, wrapping around Cullen’s length. “All the more advantage for me.” He purrs, moving his hand slowly, grinning as Cullen’s hips take on a life of their own. “Do you have any oil?”

“No, I haven’t had the need for it in years…” Cullen braces on his forearms, giving himself the room he needed to rock his hips.

“I have a trick, if you’ll allow it.” Dorian says, cautious. “It’s a small spell I taught myself, I can use it when you need it, and that’s all the magic I’ll use if you wish it.”

It takes a moment for Cullen to answer, as if contemplating all of the things that could go wrong if he allowed it, but he nods, grunting softly in response to Dorian’s thumb brushing over the tip of his cock. They stay like that, Dorian’s hand stroking Cullen’s length, foreheads coming to rest together. Cullen lets a heavy breath pass his lips, reaching down to push Dorian’s hand away, and remove Dorian’s smalls. He slips down, closing his mouth around Dorian’s length, allowing his tongue to tease and work over the tip. A hand is in his hair, like before, giving a gentle tug. His head bobs slowly, hands holding Dorian’s thighs, drawing them close and resting them against his shoulders.

Dorian groans lightly, bringing his free hand up to cover his mouth, lifting his head to watch as his cock disappears into Cullen’s mouth. His attention is drawn to Cullen’s hand as it begins to slide up between his legs, tapping the top of Cullen’s head. “Stop a moment, Cullen.”

Cullen lifts his head, confused, quickly trying to figure out what he did. “I’m sorry, Dorian. I didn’t-”

“No, silly. Look. Watch.” Dorian says softly, taking Cullen’s hand in his own, using the spell he mentioned to slick Cullen’s fingers. He then moves his hand between his legs, slicking his entrance, and moves his hand away. “Do continue.” He smirks.

Cullen shakes his head lightly, but drops back down, taking Dorian back into his mouth. The man groans again, and pushes his fingers back through Cullen’s hair, moving his legs astride Cullen’s shoulders as his fingers press gently against his entrance. Cullen lifts his head as he pushes a finger into the man, his gaze coming up and watching as Dorian’s back arches, desire no longer the driving force behind his attentions. He turns his head, kissing a trail along Dorian’s inner thigh as he works his finger, a slight smirk forming at the reaction to his stubble brushing against the other man’s skin. The squirming, the light laughter, hips rocking onto his finger. A second is added when Dorian makes it clear he’s ready, the action accompanied by a bite to Dorian’s hips, muffled groans coming from the man. Cullen works the man open, slowly kissing up his body until he reaches Dorian’s neck, this time being the one to bite a mark into his skin.

Dorian arches his back, his head tilted to expose more skin to Cullen, the hand previously in his hair now scratching his shoulders. “Cullen…” He lets out a soft pant. “Cullen, please.”

Cullen pulls his head back, removing his fingers from the man, sliding himself between his legs. “Are you okay to take me without more slick?” He asks, taking himself in hand, stroking slowly as he lines up and waits for Dorian’s answer.

Dorian nods, his hands resting on the back of Cullen’s neck. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.” He half smiles, his gaze met by Cullen’s as the man nods, and pushes into him. He gasps, and any noise that may have escaped either man is muffled by a surprisingly gentle kiss that Cullen plants on his lips. Dorian has felt like this only once before, with the same man, as if the whole world was only the room they were in, and nothing in Thedas could be as important as this. Dorian lifts his legs once Cullen is seated inside him, wrapping them loosely around Cullen’s waist, biting his bottom lip as he pulls back from the kiss.

Cullen takes the hint, and moves slowly inside Dorian, using the time he had to take in Dorian’s expression. Soft, softer than when they first met, when they first shared a bed. It looked almost loving, and seeing it gave Cullen butterflies. He drops his head down, kissing along Dorian’s jaw, a hand reaching back to hold his thigh while he braced on the other. Soft groans, loud enough only to be heard by each other, come from both Dorian and Cullen. Dorian’s nails scratch across Cullen’s shoulders, spurring him on, his hips moving harder but keeping their pace. His kisses trail down Dorian’s throat, along his shoulders, turning to soft bites that wouldn’t leave marks.

Dorian slides the hand not scratching Cullen up into his hair, pulling the man up, then down into a kiss. He tightens his legs around the man’s waist, pushing his hips up to gain friction when the man’s abdomen brushes against his length, grunting with each thrust. He gradually drops back from the kiss, head pressing against the pillow, hand dropping down above his head. His other hand slides down to grip Cullen’s bicep, digging his nails into his skin. The hand gripping his thigh squeezes, and Cullen begins to shift his position, slowing his pace so as not to hurt Dorian while he moves. Cullen manipulates Dorian’s position, and Dorian finds himself with his legs resting on the bends of Cullen’s arms, Cullen’s hands gripping his sides, building his pace.

“Dorian…” Cullen groans softly, dropping his head forwards, his breathing slowly turning to pants. “Dorian, I…”

“Don’t, Cullen.” Dorian brings a hand up, pressing his index finger to Cullen’s lips. “After. Tell me after.” His hand comes down to Cullen’s chest, scratching the skin lightly, before dropping the hand to his length and stroking himself in time with Cullen’s thrusts. He lifts his eyes, smirking as he notices Cullen watching him, slowing his hand to tease him. He swipes his thumb over his tip, grunting to himself as he does, licking his lips. He continues to watch Cullen watching him, and pauses for just a moment when his gaze is met, hands squeezing his sides. “Faster, Cullen. More. Please.”

Cullen happily obliges, dropping Dorian’s legs and letting them wrap back around his waist, planting his hands either side of Dorian’s head, building the pace and strength of his thrusts. Cullen pants, biting back groans that threaten to expose them to whomever might be near the room, smirking slightly at the mess of Dorian’s hair.

The pair move and groan in unison, the noise filling the space, their space, for several long moments. Cullen’s head drops down and rests on Dorian’s forehead, lips ghosting and pressing together for small kisses, exchanging panted breaths. When Dorian’s hand moves away from his length, Cullen takes it in his own, moving his hand in time with his thrusts. The man twitches in his hand, grips his hair and shoulder, pushing his hips up to meet Cullen’s. Cullen’s head slides down to Dorian’s shoulder as he feels himself draw near, a heat pooling in his lower abdomen, his hand slightly sticky from Dorian’s pre-cum.

“Dorian. Maker, I’m close, Dorian.” Cullen says as he lifts his head, pupils blown from lust, admiring the dishevelled man beneath him. He would stay like this all day if he could. If so many different people weren’t relying on the both of them to keep them safe, and keep them trained. His eyes trail over Dorian’s body, the man’s skin coated with a sheet of sweat, yet even in the middle of… whatever _this_ was, Dorian was still perfect. His hips slow as he threatens to spill over, trying to savour what little time he had left between now and his finish, his hand still moving at the pace his hips had held.

Dorian writhes under Cullen, tightening his legs around the man, gasping and groaning with each stroke of the man’s hand. He couldn’t last, not when Cullen was stroking him like that, his thumb rubbing over his tip with each upstroke, his hand twisting just slightly. It drove him mad, dragged him over the edge, spilling harder over Cullen’s hand than he had his own in the last six years. He groans out Cullen’s name, breathless as the man rides out his climax with him, knowing the man was just as close as he was. His hands grapple for purchase on Cullen’s shoulders, pulling the man to him, kissing him relentlessly.

The kiss, and the sound of his name passing Dorian’s lips in such a way, is enough to drag Cullen over the edge. His hips slow almost completely, gasping into Dorian’s mouth as he spills into the man, his fingertips digging into the man’s sides. There would be marks there later, just as there was a mark on Dorian’s throat, and only they would have the pleasure of knowing who put those marks there. His hips come to a stop, and he lays there with Dorian, both men panting as they come down from their highs. “Maker’s breath, Dorian…” He pants as he pulls out of the man, dropping down and resting against him.

Dorian wasn’t sure what to make of the situation they were in, covered in sweat and smelling like sex, both flooded with feelings of something that was more than just lust or desire. His hand comes up to pet Cullen’s hair, the man’s head resting in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. They wouldn’t have long like this, both of them knew that, but they were more than willing to relish in the time that they did have and spend it how they wished.

Cullen lifts his head a moment later, admiring Dorian, his hand running over his side. “Dorian. I want you to promise me something.”

Dorian raises his eyebrow, and looks down at the man. His moments of intimacy never resulted in being asked to keep a promise, but he supposed that Cullen was different.

“Promise me that you’ll stay. In Haven. With me.”

“I have no more plans to leave anytime soon.” Dorian says, confused, before it clicks. “What exactly are you asking, Cullen?”

“If you’ll have me, I’d like to make something of this. Something more than sex. I don’t want just fun, Dorian, and I know you feel it.” Cullen pushes himself up, opening his drawer and wiping his hand on a rag, before cleaning Dorian, tossing the rag in the bin. “I want to… Spend more time with you.”

“You wish to court me?”

“If you’ll allow it, yes.”

Dorian thinks for a moment, staring at the man in front of him. He couldn’t deny he had feelings for him, and he would be thoroughly disappointed if Cullen left him after this or kept this as just a moment of fun. Cullen’s demeanour had shifted, he was shy again, Dorian could see that. This wasn’t a trick. Dorian swallows, but nods. “Of course. But we really must find a better place to do this next time, a single bed isn’t exactly comfortable.”

Cullen laughs, and leans down, pressing his lips to Dorian. “Anything. Maybe I’ll steal a tent and we can venture a small way out of Haven next time.” He smiles at the man, brushing his fingers over his cheek, a loving smile on his face. “Just stay alive for me.”

“I promise.”


End file.
